


Red Light

by Nejinee



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Bucky Barnes, Angry Sex, Arguing, Avengers Family, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fighting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Minor Injuries, Protective Bucky Barnes, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee
Summary: Not every relationship is easy. Not even a super soldier one.





	Red Light

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to dedicate this fic to [Quietnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietnight/pseuds/quietnight), who works unbelievable magic in her podfics. I highly recommend her reading of Aggressivewhenstartled's [Workplace Hazards](https://archiveofourown.org/series/314306) series and her use of the song 'Red Light Spells Danger' by Billy Ocean, which for whatever reason, just spoke to me and was perfect to attach to this story and its sentiments. \o/

It really was a song for the ages.

Clint had spent one too many nights drunk and ranting about the blessings of partnership and kinship and karma to anyone (usually Natasha) who would listen. Because Clint believed in bonds, blood oaths, the call of the wild and every other fanciful thing the circus folk had drilled into him. He was a hopeful kinda guy.

After Barnes joined their riotous gang, it really got going. It got Tony going. It got Natasha acting uneasy and watchful. It made Cap practically vibrate out of his suit with happiness. It had Wanda looking those curious looks and Clint humming his hums. And then, after all that, after accepting this man into the fold, this angry, quiet and dangerously handsome man, after all that, they find out he and Cap are a _thing_. Like a real, actual _thing_. 

 

* * *

 

The mission hadn’t panned out well. Sure, the robotic infestation was gone and destroyed, but the carnage left in its wake … _well_.

Fury had the main baddie bundled up. The balding, grey-haired weirdo was yelling about his _rights_ and his _lawyer_ and _Christ_ , Bucky could have choked the guy out right then. As if a monster like him deserved anything like basic human rights after burning through an entire neighbourhood, destroying a local library, grocery store and shattering the lives of countless kids that had gathered for the local high school homecoming game.

The medics were out in full force for this one. Ambulances lined the main drag and cops were directing folks on where to go, and helping terrified parents find their kids. One mother was sobbing, leaning over her daughter on a gurney, the young teenager trying her best to pat her Mom’s head.

The shit-head robots had been sent out to destroy electric infrastructure, if that’s what the ranting and raving psycho was on about. They’d sought out the cables, the wiring, the current that fed this part of the city. Stark wasn’t sure if they’d been doing so to absorb the electricity somehow, or just to destabilize the region. Either way, it completely backfired on all counts when the mini ravaging and scuttling microbots started attacking people like insects.

Maybe it was the crowd at the football field, maybe the lights or the noise, but whatever it was, it ruined a good night of fun for a lot of people.

“All done?” Bucky murmured, coming to stand beside Barton on the rooftop.

Clint sighed slowly, “Yeah. Looks like it.”

The two of them had taken point all night, firing at whatever bots they could get at.

“What a mess,” Barton murmured, looking over all the red and blue flashing lights.

A huddle of reporters could be seen a ways back, microphones waving in front of where Steve and Stark were trying to calm them.

“We’re gonna get slammed for this one,” Barton huffed. “Look at all those casualties.”

Bucky grunted in agreement.

 

* * *

 

Back at the tower, the team sat to watch the news, the outcome of the evening’s debacle. Shaky phone footage showed Stark blasting robots, and Steve crushing them with his shield, but it also captured a lot of the terrified faces of kids and parents who scrambled to get out of the stadium. 

The reporter was onscreen again, still on-site, and boy, was she being brutal. Her camera guy was adept at panning over the medics and the crying kids and frantically angry parents with scratches and blood and chunks of flesh missing.

Only one fatality so far, from someone falling off the bleachers, but one was more than enough for such a stupid criminal act.

Steve was standing, arms folded, glaring at the TV.

“We should still be there,” he said slowly.

But he’d been outvoted. The Avengers had done enough. Any longer on-site and the media would overwhelm the people actually trying to help, the medics, the fire fighters, the police.

“Well,” Tony cleared his throat, “It could be worse.”

Steve didn’t even spare him a glance.

“There’s a family in critical,” Natasha said, scanning her own phone. “From a car accident outside the arena.”

“Jeez,” Clint wiped at his face, as the camera footage only seemed to get worse. Tons of teenagers with phones were posting their clips online and sending them in directly to the station. What was the point in journalism when the general public had so much power so quickly?

 

* * *

 

 

“Technically, we did save the day,” Tony breathed out, flopping onto a white sofa.

Steve rubbed a hand over his hair, watching Bucky stomp off, probably back to their apartment. 

“Your buddy okay?” Rhodes asked with a wry look.

Steve nodded, “Yeah.” He said no more. He wasn’t up for explaining Bucky’s lack of interpersonal finesse. Others always saw him as gruff, unapproachable, because he was. But Bucky was also quiet sometimes, and he didn’t speak much when his brain was in knots; So unlike the Bucky from Steve’s memories.

While Tony and Rhodes argued with Natasha on the night’s issues and the morning’s probable fallout, Clint pulled Steve aside.

“Hey, so I would never normally do this,” the archer said, hands on hips. He had a smudge of dirt across his chin, probably from crawling in the dirt again with Bucky. At least Bucky’s eye black made sense. Clint was just dirty. “But Barnes wasn’t lookin’ too hot tonight,” Clint went on. “Uh,” he scratched at the tip of his nose. “I’m not saying you need to check in with him or anything, but you probably should check in with him.”

Steve frowned.

“Did he say anything?” Steve asked. He hadn’t noticed anything too out of place, not on the ride back to the tower, at least. Sure, they hadn’t connected much through the evening, but if Bucky wasn’t feeling so good, he should have said something.

Clint shrugged, “Nah. It’s just my spidey-sense kicking in.”

Steve’s lip curled to the side, trying not to laugh. Oh, poor Parker. Mentioning _that_ tantalizing tidbit in front of the guys had been such a big no-no. He was gonna get ribbed for that forever.

“When did you notice?” Steve asked.

Clint shrugged, “I don’t have an exact moment, but now I think about it, I don’t know that they guy was okay when we met up on the rooftop. He’s a tough nugget to read on his good days. And today wasn’t a good day.”

Which meant Bucky may have been in a mood all night. At least he wouldn’t let it affect his work with the team.

 

So Steve waited a while, making sure everyone was ready for the morning news and possible interviews that may be slated by the Stark PR team.  He nabbed a handful of orange slices from the kitchen, not able to remember his last meal, before finally heading to the elevator.

He chewed the last of the orange, pondering how many hours were left before he’d be dragged out of bed by an insistent JARVIS under the control of the maniacal Tony.

Their apartment was quiet when Steve let himself in.

He kicked off his boots and tugged at the annoying, stiff Captain American uniform. The velcro seams made a helluva noise as he pulled at the kevlar panels, dropping pieces as he went. More often than not, he had to get rid of each suit he used, whether because of damage or the smell.

When he reached the bedroom, he paused.

Bucky was on the bed edge, facing the floor to ceiling window. He was in a white tank and soft grey sweats, his favourite pair. Clearly he’d showered.

Steve stood at the door for a moment longer before entering. Bucky must have heard him come in.

“Hey,” he said softly, “Do you need, um, _want_ to go over tonight’s events?” He pulled at his socks that were soaked with sweat and ambled over to the laundry basket, as if the trail of uniform parts he’d left behind would be forgiven when he dropped his stinky socks on the pile.

Bucky didn’t answer. He just twisted around to glare at Steve with baleful blue eyes.

“Buck?” Steve said, standing barefoot in only his Captain America pants. “You okay?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned back to the window. The night sky was blue and had a hint of glimmer on the horizon, indicating that sunset wasn’t far off.

“This whole night was a shit-show,” Bucky said, voice a low rumble.

God, but he really had picked up on the twenty-first century slang like a real pro.

Steve sighed. “It was,” he conceded, “But it could have gone way worse.”

“Steve,” Bucky said harshly, “Did you see the people who got hurt? There were kids out there. Kids with bruises and broken legs and busted teeth and blood everywhere. What the hell good did we do?”

Steve blinked.

“Hey,” he said, “We can’t control everything. Imagine how bad it _would_ be if we didn’t show up.”

“Well, why do we even bother?” Bucky groused angrily. “Fuckin’ people are always getting hurt. We can’t stop that. The next psychopath that shows up might be smart enough to have seen tonight’s fuck ups. He’s probably taking notes from some fucked up evil lair. We never get to stop them all in the end.”

“Bucky,” Steve came up to the bed. Bucky twisted off and away, clearly aware of what Steve was going to do. “Hey, look at me.”

Bucky pushed past Steve, back around to the other side of the bed. Then he turned and folded his arms.

“Look,” Steve put up both hands, “I don’t know what’s bugging you right now, but believe me when I say we did good. We tried.”

“I hate this Avenger crap,” Bucky said.

Steve paused and dropped his hands. He stared at Bucky, not quite sure he’d heard right.

“You what?” Steve asked.

“And why the hell do you have to be the face for the bullshit?” Bucky asked angrily, clearly pent up. “Why do you have to stand in front of those vultures, those goddamn reporters, that ain’t there to tell you we did a good job. No, they gotta stand there and question you on why you didn’t do it right the first time? They don’t ask me that. They always gotta have Captain Fuckin’ America next to Tony Fuckin’ Stark, blabberin’ away about collateral damage and lives saved versus lives lost and how bad it coulda–“

“Bucky,” Steve cut in.

“–and you _let_ them talk to you like that! Like you’re a servant to the people, but you’re only a hero when they tell you you are. Like all those videos the kids uploaded with the robots tearing peoples’ faces and hair. As if that’s _your_ fault. Like you didn’t save lives or lock up that freak. This is such a flaming pile of-”

“Hey,” Steve came up to Bucky, face hard. “Bucky. Breathe. Jesus, it’s not that bad. I don’t _let_ anyone do anything, okay? You know me better than that.”

Bucky scowled at Steve. “Oh, really? Mister self-sacrifice sitting up on his sacrificial throne?”

Steve looked Bucky over. He then reached up and pressed his palms to Bucky’s tensely folded arms. “Hey,” he said, softer. “What’s got you so wound, pal?”

“Stop that,” Bucky said, as Steve gently rubbed his palms up to Bucky’s shoulders.

“Stop what?” Steve said, stepping closer.

“Stop trying to distract me with that dumb face of yours,” Bucky growled.

Steve blinked. “This face?”

Bucky squinted angrily. “I know what you’re doing, Rogers. It’s not gonna work.”

“What?” Steve said, rubbing both hands up the back of Bucky’s neck, pressing his fingers through his dark, damp hair.

Bucky rumbled and his eyes fell shut.

“You need rest. A good night’s sleep and you’ll feel abetter about this, okay?” Steve murmured, pressing his forehead to Bucky’s. “You don’t have to be on alert all the time.”

Bucky grunted, “You smell like shit.”

Steve smiled wryly and pulled back. “Well, I was hoping to shower with my boyfriend, but then he got all moody and ran off.”

“Oh, woe is you,” Bucky shoved at him. “Poor little blonde boy who didn’t get a rub-down.”

Steve smiled. “You can still come join me?”

Bucky pondered it, then shook his head, brows still furrowed. “Nah. I’m done. You go ahead. I’m gonna knock out.”

 

* * *

“Why with the fuckin’ death rays and lasers?” Barton yelled, letting an arrow fly. This one had some kind of explosive on the end, so the bad guy who got it in the face didn’t appreciate it much.

Bucky had a sort of respect for the science behind Barton’s arrows. He steadfastedly refused to work with guns, no matter how many free handguns Bucky had going. But Barton was _ace_ with guns. Bucky’d seen him on the firing range. It was amazing to watch him work. Why he didn’t use them was beyond Bucky.

Another smoke cloud shifted their way and they both covered their eyes.

“Ugh,” Barton coughed. “Can’t see shit from up here.”

Stark’s repulsors could be heard, their freaky load-and-burst squeals muffled by the carnage around them.

“Will somebody please disarm the scientist with the _ray-gun_ ,” Stark said with more force than usual. “I can’t get close enough.”

Another bright purple laser shot through the smoke, clearing the air and making everyone jump.

“Shit,” Barton breathed, on the gravel beside Bucky. They were in some fat cat’s ritzy rooftop garden with grass, flowers, gravel and a fuckin’ _gazebo_ of all things. Rich fuckers, _honestly_.

“On it,” came Steve’s voice over the comm.

Bucky crawled back to the roof’s edge with a grunt and propped up his rifle again, easing into his sniper’s stance easily.

The smoke had cleared and he could see the mess five storeys down. Bodies everywhere, all of them weirdoes in goggles and bizarre uniforms.

The one pain in their side was still going mad, though. Some scientist with half his hair missing was standing on the platform that the big bizarre laser machine ray-gun rotated on. The guy was tiny, skin and bones, really. Through his scope, Bucky could see the guy, with a mad, wide grin of glee on his face as he twisted around and around, firing at random. The laser just made whatever it hit explode into mushiness. Brickwork bubbled and dribbled and humans, well, they just became exploding guts.

Bucky almost had a clear shot, but there was a red, white and blue spangled idiot hopping around like a goddamn _fool,_ trying to get his head blown off. 

“Fuckin’,” Bucky grumbled loudly. “Steve!” he barked loudly, “Stop trying to get yourself killed!”

“Ow,” he heard Barton mutter nearby.

“Jesus, watch the volume,” Stark said into the comm. “We can all hear you, Robo-boy.”

“I’m fine–“ Steve grunted, dodging the idiot with the ray again. “Just … Getting closer…”

“Fuck,” Bucky spat, aiming at a random guy with goggles that was stumbling over the rubble, and heading for Steve. Bucky fired, reloaded. Fired again. Stark’s advancements in the weapon arena? Phenomenal.

Bucky shot again. Reloaded, fired. Bang. Bang. _Bang._

Men in goggles dropped liked flies, one after another.

“Whoa, okay,” Wilson said over the comm.

“Hey, Barnes,” Barton was closer. “You don’t–“

Steve was leaping closer to the nutjob with the Ray-gun. He flipped and almost got lasered to kingdom come. Fuck, if he wasn’t so goddamn fast, Bucky’d try taking another shot at the bad guy, but no. 

“Steve, stop _fucking_ around,” Bucky hissed. He reloaded and shot another piece of scum between the eyes.

And then, the _idiot_ turned around and fucking glared up at Bucky on the rooftop.

“What are you _doing?”_ Bucky barked, immediately shifting his scope to aim at the psycho scientist and, as expected, the sociopath was swivelling the gun round to aim at motionless Steve.

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat and his eyes widened.

BANG.

“Yeah!” Barton whooped.

The ray-gun operator slumped backwards into the rubble.

Bucky pulled back from his hot-to-the-touch rifle and leaned over the roof’s edge.

Steve turned to look at the dead guy, then moved off the mound of brick he’d been standing on, pointedly not looking up.

* * *

  

“Guys, this is getting awkward,” Scott said, stating the goddamn obvious.

The small PR event had started off great. Riding the success of their last mission, they’d all dressed nice and put on their fancy faces.

Sam and Rhodes were working the press like adept pros. Tony had been stirring up some laughs and gasps and Pepper was rolling her eyes every hour, on the hour.

Even Maria was here, decked out in a stunning dark, long dress.

“Obviously,” Natasha murmured behind her champagne flute.

Clint gritted his teeth and shook his head. He hated the monkey suit Nat had squeezed him into. It itched in all the wrong places.

“You wanna get in there and ask about it?” Clint said.

Scott shook his head, “No, nooo,thanks, but no.”

The three of them looked across the room.

Barnes was dressed up, which must have shifted the tectonic plates themselves. Even in his black shirt and tie, hair pulled back, he looked like the unhappiest motherfucker to ever roam the earth. 

He was nursing a beer, seated in the end seat on one of the blue velvet couches, and a scowl planted firmly on his features.

Rogers, on the other hand, was milking the room. He wasn’t too far off, but he had his back to Barnes, shining like an emblem of glory in his slick tux, hair combed to the side, all old-timey and cute.

The two of them were pointedly not talking.

It was unreal how long this had been going on.

“Why’d Barnes even show if he ain’t gonna mingle or even fake it?” Clint asked, sipping his own drink.

Natasha cocked a brow his way. “Because,” she drawled slowly. “You really think Barnes would stay home and let Cap have all the fun?”

Scott frowned, “But Barnes isn’t having fun.”

Natasha shrugged, “Or he’s just stubborn.”

Clint nodded. 

It was clear that Rogers was also playing it cool. The two hadn’t shown up together, which was _weird_ as all hell.

Cap had been there on time, arriving with Wilson, a great friend to have on hand for a party.

Barnes had appeared around two hours in and had promptly jammed himself into the sofa.

It was cute watching them, though. Entertaining as hell.

“Oop,” Nat lifted her glass and took a sip.

They were taking shots based on which super soldier was glancing at their other half.

This time it was Steve, who was engaged in conversation with four government nobodies. He had turned slightly, feet planted, and glanced over at the very frowny Barnes.

“Oh, I am gonna be trashed tonight,” Clint said, swigging his own drink. Steve seemed torn for a second, but just turned back to his companions.

“It’s just so stupid, right?” Scott said. “I mean, clearly something’s wrong, and they’re not talking it through. Don’t they know that conversation eases the way in a relationship?”

Natasha snorted audibly. 

“Yes, but you’re not a hundred years old and born during the first world war now, are you?”

Scott twisted his lips.

“Yeah, and you grew up in a world with modern therapy and hormone adjustment, and hand-holding coca-cola advertising,” Clint tacked on.

Scott conceded the point.

 

* * *

Bucky was careful, ekeing his way out of the horrible Stark glory show.

If just one more person had sidled up to him and asked him if he was going home alone, he was going to lose what was left of his mind.

The residential elevator was further down the hallway, so he got to avoid the drunken idiots exiting the party.

He waited, wishing he could just get into his sweats and hoodie and hide on his balcony.

Why’d he even fucking come to this thing? 

The elevator was taking _forever_.

And he knew exactly why he’d shown up. Steve had been snippy for three days and Bucky _hated_ the silent treatment, mostly because it wasn’t Steve’s style, which meant Steve was just stupid and angry and dumb.

The elevator dinged.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time,” he grumbled.

He entered, jabbed the button for his floor. Clearly the cleaners had been in because the elevator was _glistening_. He didn’t really want to stare at his dopey self in the getup Potts had given him.

He looked up when Steve appeared suddenly, like some kind of ninja, fresh out of his mission to woo the wicked world of journalism. The elevator door jarred back open to let him in.

“The hell?” Bucky said, as the doors closed.

Steve cleared his throat and came to stand beside Bucky. The elevator hummed.

“Hey, Buck. You look, uh, good tonight,” Steve said, and _oh_.

Bucky heard the rough edge to Steve’s voice.

“So you ignore me for three days and I show up looking like a chump and suddenly you’re gagging for it?” he said, not even looking over.

Steve huffed.

Bucky turned to look at him. “Really?”

Steve gave him a wry look. “Well, I mean. It’s _been_ three days. And you’re wearing a tie.” He mumbled into the air. “You know you look good dressed up.”

“Damn right I do,” Bucky muttered.

The ride up was silent.

When it dinged for their floor, Bucky pushed out first. Steve followed him to their apartment.

It was dim and quiet. Bucky liked it when the lights stayed off and only the strip lighting was on.

Steve seemed to pause in the living room, whereas Bucky went to the kitchen to scrounge up something, anything. Potts’ caterers made amazing food, but in portions so small a mouse wouldn’t feel full. Bucky could have eaten an entire wild boar.

When Steve did make an appearance, slowly coming round the corner and into the cold light of the open fridge, Bucky was two bowls deep into some potato salad.

Bucky looked up. Steve had lost the jacket and bowtie. He still had the goofy hair, though, which frustratingly had his dick paying attention.

“What? You wanna talk to me now?” Bucky said.

Steve leaned against the doorjamb. “You’re a real peach you know. I had a _reason_ for being mad at you.”

“Yeah? Why, because I covered your goddamn ass out there? So that psycho ray-gun monster didn’t get a chance to blow your brains out?”

Steve frowned, “I didn’t need you to jump in, Buck,” he said gruffly. “I had it in control.”

“Oh, right, so when you were skipping around a deadly laser, you figured you’d what? Slide under him and kick him in the nuts with your super boots?”

“Bucky,” Steve said, unfolding himself and coming round to face him. “You undermined me in front of the whole team. I wanted to catch the guy, not kill him.”

“Why?” Bucky retorted, chugging back some water.

“ _Because_ ,” Steve went on, “He was clearly smart enough to use that contraption, so maybe he helped build it.”

“I don’t care,” Bucky said, He leaned his hands on the counter. “You could have _died._ ”

And he meant it.

Steve’s face softened.

“You gotta trust me, though,” he said.

“I trust _you_ ,” Bucky retorted angrily. “It’s the other fuckers out there I can’t trust.”

Steve got closer, coming round the table they had in their kitchen. He grabbed the end of Bucky’s tie, but didn’t tug. Probably knew better than anyone that it would not be cute with an ex-assassin.

He looked Bucky over, top to bottom.

“You _do_ look good tonight,” he repeated.

“Nice topic change,” Bucky said, eyeing the rogue hand that had slipped a finger under his belt.

Bucky felt a warm flush start at his neck and creep its way south.

He grunted. Steve’s other hand met at Bucky’s belt and made quick work of unbuckling him. “Steve.”

“It’s been three days, Buck,” Steve rumbled, leaning in for a kiss, which Bucky wanted to refuse but under the onslaught, couldn’t remember why.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and felt Steve’s big hand press over his underwear.

Okay, so three days was pretty long for them.

 

* * *

“You are the _worst_!”

Natasha looked at Tony, and they both paused, listening to what sounded like an epic super soldier meltdown.

“How am _I_ the worst?” Cap yelled back.

“What made you think that was smart?” Barnes barked. “You think that shield’s always gonna cover you?”

“It’s worked before, Buck,” Cap said, voice slower, colder. “Just because you weren’t there to witness the last time, doesn’t mean I don’t know what I can do.”

“You were thrown _twenty feet!”_ Barnes hissed.

Tony made a face and sipped at his mocha latté. After-mission coffee had become a standard thing these days, what with most activities occurring at night.

“I think they’re tired,” Natasha huffed, as if groping for an excuse. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d think she was uncomfortable with the Rogers-Barnes debacle that was becoming a common thing every few weeks.

The two of them were just outside the garage where Barnes and Rogers were going at it like bitter enemies. All Tony had wanted was to get his jacket from his Lambo, damnit.

“Tired?” Tony snorted, “That’s not a few nights of no sleep. _That’s_ couples therapy material in there. You don’t see me and Pepper ripping each others’ faces off after we’ve saved the world from imminent destruction. We tend to double-down on chocolates and cheesy eighties movies, not screaming matches in the sub-basement.”

“Only because she’s too classy for that,” Romanov retorted.

Tony tilted his head and nodded. She _was_ right, sort of.

 

* * *

“Bucky, come on,” Steve said, trying not to sound like he was whining.

He watched Bucky grab his pillow and, for some inane reason, their duvet, before huffing his way out of their bedroom and down the hall.

“Buck, please,” Steve said, following the other man to the second bedroom, the one Bucky had used when he first moved into Avengers Tower.

Steve got his foot down just before Bucky slammed the door in his face.

“Move,” Bucky hissed.

“No,” Steve said plainly. “You have to talk to me, Buck. I can’t read your mind.”

“There’s nothing to read,” Bucky grunted. “I’m fucking mad and I don’t want to talk.”

“But–“ Steve said, face falling. “If we–“

Bucky kicked at Steve’s foot and slammed the door, as he had intended.

Steve groaned and pressed his forehead to the cool wood.

“Bucky, listen.”

Steve heard what sounded like the spare bed mattress creaking.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“Hey,” Steve said gently. “If there’s one thing this century taught me, it’s–I mean I guess it makes sense– it’s that you can’t have a functioning relationship if you go to bed mad at each other. It’s bad for the blood. It’s bad for _us_ , Buck.”

He heard a _thunk_ as something hit the door.

“Fuck off, Steve,” Bucky growled.

 

* * *

“Hey now,” Sam said. “What did the lil’ ol’ sandbag do to your dog?” He came up to Steve and held the shaking punching bag.

Steve was huffing, hands up, dripping in sweat. He blinked at Sam and stepped back.

“You’ve been in here for four hours,” Sam drawled. “Maybe you two need to talk?”

Steve looked heavenward, chest heaving. “He is so insufferable!” he cried.

“Yeah, he is,” Sam snorted, “Figured that out the day I met him.”

Steve glanced over, surprised that Sam could joke about the day his car got wrecked and had a hitman almost run him into the ground.

Sam was smiling.

Steve sighed and wiped at his brow with his forearm. Jeez, he really was covered in sweat.

“He’s always mad at me,” Steve said. “Always. Like I can’t do anything right. Like he’s got to coddle me.”

Sam tilted his head and his brows rose. “Well, I mean, he’s probably just concerned.”

“Yeah, he is, I get that,” Steve hissed, wishing he’s wrapped his hands. His knuckles were bleeding. “But I’m not that little kid from Brooklyn anymore.”

“No, you’re Captain America,” Sam said, coming round to sit on a padded bench.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that enough?”

Sam shrugged. “I dunno. To me, you’ve always been the legend, the man himself, you know? Maybe to your boy, you’ll always be that little kid?”

“But I’m not!” Steve cried out. “I can handle myself, I can protect myself and I know what I’m doing!”

“You sure about that?” Sam cocked a brow. “You did plant yourself on a bomb and got blasted halfway across a ballroom theatre.”

“The shield absorbed the blast, like it’s supposed to do,” Steve countered.

Sam raised both hands. “Hey, I get it. I’m not taking sides here. But he’s _mad._ He’s usually a grump-ass sonuvabitch most days, but he’s _really_ mad.”

“I’m sorry you all have to deal with this.”

Sam shrugged, “Well, we don’t really. It’s not like he takes it out on us. We just have to watch you two act like children.”

Steve scowled and pouted at the same time.

“Yeah, like that,” Sam waved a hand at him.

“Real glad you’re not my therapist,” Steve grumbled.

“You let me know when you actually _get_ a therapist and I will bake you a pie and give Barnes a hug. You know I still think it’s a good idea.”

Steve wiped at his face, but said nothing.

 

* * *

It happened. It finally happened and Steve wasn’t there to stop it.

The armed men were easy to take out, being just a bunch of ex-G.I.s with no experience with super-powered teams.

The downside was their weapons. The guns were rapid-fire and their bullets were covered in some kind of burning, smoking acid.

Steve already had tears and burns along his uniform. He sliced the shield out, hitting three guys at once.

Sam made good use of his wings, protecting the others, but the wings were useless for flight now.

So Bucky had taken point and fired non-stop, cracking heads back and piercing holes through as many of the grunts as he could.

It was when he’d scooted out from behind the burned out reception desk that it happened. Bent on one knee, Bucky had his rifle aimed and then he’d cried out, jerking back around the hull of wood and plastic.

“Shit!” Bucky’d yelled, which caught Steve’s attention.

“Barnes is hit,” came Natasha over the comm. 

“Damnit,” Clint said, firing makeshift arrows like they were going out of business. “That’s my backup down.”

“We need to neutralize them,” Maria’s voice murmured in Steve’s ear, but he couldn’t focus.

He just knocked out the goon in his way and jumped off the tiered walkway, down into the main area of the office building they’d been corralled into. “I’m calling in the drones.”

“Bucky!” Steve bellowed, running full tilt.

“Jesus, Cap, wait!” Tony said over the comm. “You’re heading face-first into–“

Steve plowed through the mess of armoured men that had been covering the east part of the lobby. It had been such a tight space to fight in, explaining why the Avengers were toughing it out seven to a hundred.

Men cried out and fell as Steve knocked them back, one by one.

He slashed and punched and kicked one guy right into the wall. That guy definitely wasn’t getting back up.

He was almost surrounded, men with electric batons and guns raised. 

The familiar sound of a repulsor burst had Steve duck and Tony destroyed a couple of the idiots in one go. That gave Steve room to push forward, using his shield as a barrier. He just ran at them all, shoving men aside in one great swell.

“Whooa,” he heard Clint over the comm. “ _Cap.”_

It worked, though.

Steve cleared a path of bodily destruction all the way over to the busted reception desk that Natasha was manning, firing her own pistol, and covered in multiple burns and scratches.

“Nat,” Steve gasped out, skidding onto his knees. He clambered around the desk and came face-to-face with Bucky, sitting against what looked like a goddamn printer jammed into the desk. He was pressing his metal hand to the bleeding wound in his thigh. 

“Jesus,” Steve huffed, eyes wide and stricken. “Call for medevac,” he said into the comm.

“I already did,” Natasha groused, leaning round to fire off a shot. Someone wailed.

“Bucky, _Bucky_ ,” Steve leaned in, scared to touch. “Are you–“

“I’m fine,” Bucky gritted out, wincing, and clearly _not_ okay. “Just, fuckin’–damn it.”

“Do you need me to–can I–“

“Cap! We need you out here,” Tony yelled.

Bucky glared at Steve, face sweaty and pale. “Just fuckin' do your job, you idiot,” he bit out.

Steve clenched his jaw, looked for anything like fear in Bucky’s eyes. There was none.

“Okay,” Steve nodded and threw himself back into the fray.

 

* * *

“Oh, my face,” Tony winced and tapped at the bandage taped to his cheek. “My beautiful, classical renaissance face.”

Natasha eyed him with disdain. “Really?” She was almost head-to-toe in bandages and stitches. The Avengers Tower medical ward was so bright and so white, it almost hurt.

Tony grinned, “Well, at least Barnes lived.”

Natasha punched his arm. “You are such an ass _all_ the time. Why?”

Tony pouted, “Because I was a lonely only child with nothing but a butler and mechanical gizmos for friends.”

“That’s no excuse,” Maria said tersely from her own medical bunk.

Even in a tank top and cargo pants, she looked ready to murder.

The three of them turned at a noise.

Steve had obviously just toppled the nurse’s tray table.

“Escape attempt?” Tony murmured.

Natasha sighed and watched Steve fumble the nurse’s stuff back together, all while trying to not look like two hundred and eighty pounds of pure beefcake in his underwear.

Then he tried to make a run for it, but the nurse had his elbow in her hand and he wouldn’t dare _hurt_ her, while trying to escape.

“He’s barely got any cuts now,” Maria sighed, not at all displeased to see Cap like this.

“Yeah, but he’s still gotta let the medics do their jobs,” Natasha said.

“Captain Rogers, please sit back down,” they heard the nurse say gently. “Sergeant Barnes is in surgery. The doctors will let you know once they’re done. There’s no point in you running off half cocked, okay?”

Tony snorted. 

“Half cocked. Hah!”

Natasha and Maria punched him.

 

* * *

Steve was annoying the hell out of Bucky.

“Would you please stop flapping around behind me?” he growled, stuck on the L-shaped sofa, leg propped up lengthwise. “You’re making it worse.”

Steve came round where Bucky could see him. The big dork had been fretting ever since Bucky got home from medical.

He had a nasty, bruised line of stitches running down his thigh, but it was hurting less and less every day.

And Steve looked like a fresh baby duckling, skin perfectly healed, hair shining and worry dug deep into every frown line.

“Do you need anything?” Steve wavered.

“I need you to pick a seat and sit down,” Bucky rumbled.

Steve complied and squeezed in beside Bucky.

Bucky sighed. The TV was on, but he had no idea what the show was.

And he had a duckling for a boyfriend now.

“Steve,” he said slowly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m all right,” Bucky murmured.

Steve just turned and pressed his lips to Bucky’s shoulder. 

“I should have covered you,” Steve uttered.

“From across the room? Okay, pal.” Bucky scowled. “This is the deal we’re dealt when we choose to fuckin’ play superhero.”

Steve was silent.

He sat up. “You don’t like doing it, do you?”

Bucky blinked, then looked away. 

“You’ve said it before, Buck, but, well, I guess I thought you just being grumpy.”

Bucky chewed on his lip. Maybe the drugs were actually working and he was dreaming up some weird shit.

“If you don’t want to be an Avenger, Bucky, you don’t have to,” Steve said gently. “I know I pushed you, but you don’t–“

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, it does!” Steve pushed on. “Hell, I’m starting to think that the only reason you ever step out that door is because you’re worried sick about my dumb ass.” When Bucky didn’t say anything, Steve nodded. “Yeah, see. Exactly.”

“It’s not that simple,” Bucky said.

“You hate it,” Steve responded. 

And hell, Bucky felt dozy and sore and tired, so maybe he was in a weak spot.

“Yeah,” he nodded, dropping his chin to his chest.

Steve stared at him, looked him over, bruised and wounded and lame.

“And you hate the Tower, huh?” Steve added.

“Hate’s a strong word, pal,” Bucky answered, looking up with those beautiful blue eyes of his that still, to this day, made Steve weak in the knees.

Bucky squeezed his right arm free and flopped it over Steve’s shoulders. He gently rubbed at Steve’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. 

“Why? You shot me?” Bucky asked.

“No. I’m sorry, for the fighting.”

Bucky paused his hand. He shifted and Steve sat up.

“Buck, I’ve been acting like an ass. And you and me, we’ve been fighting a lot.”

Bucky frowned. 

Steve just blinked at him.

“And?” Bucky retorted, unsure of where this was going.

“And…” Steve murmured, “I didn’t get your point. I didn’t want to hear your side of it. I, uh, I honestly didn’t think what you were angry about was important.”

Bucky frowned.

“Because, ” Steve pressed, “I’m selfish and ignorant. And I see now, what the hell you were talking about.”

Bucky folded his arms.

“Babe,” Steve leaned in, pressing his nose to Bucky’s cheek. “Fuck, when I saw you bleeding out, I thought my heart was gonna explode. I thought, I thought there was this fuckin’ possibility that you–you wouldn’t make it.”

Bucky snorted, “Shows how much you know.”

Steve sighed. He pulled back. “I get it, okay? You get mad when I make quick decisions on my own and I don’t share, and it’s dumb and reckless.”

“Yeah, but you’ve always been reckless,” Bucky said.

“But I used to listen, too. I don’t know when I stopped listening. Maybe it’s because no one really cares what I’ve got to say anymore _because_ I’m just a moron in uniform.”

“Hey, you’re Captain Fuckin’ America. People, like, shit themselves when you talk. You seen how many reporters you got up your ass?”

Steve smiled wanly, “But I’m also Steve Rogers. _Your_ Steve Rogers.”

Bucky felt his brain fog up a little. “And _you_ can’t die on _me_ , Rogers,” he said, voice rough.

Steve smiled, “Yeah. I get it now.”

 

* * *

 

The leg was a pain to walk on. At least he wasn’t in a cast, but it still stung. So Bucky hobbled about like an idiot, glaring at anyone who tried to offer assistance. Even Romanov rolled her eyes at him.

He had to get the stitches out early, because even though they were the dissolving kind, his body was already rejecting them.

“Fascinating,” the Doc had murmured while tugging out the strands.

Yeah, _real_ fascinating.

He was trying to fry up some breakfast, but he couldn’t find a comfy way to stand at the stove. Currently, he was leaning his good hip against the counter and just leaning over every so often to flip the sausages and bacon.

“Mmmm,” Steve hummed, appearing from the hallway. His hair was mussed from sleep and he hadn’t put on a shirt yet.

“Ah,” Bucky smacked at Steve’s hand. “Not yet.”

The already massive pile of bacon and the bowl of eggs wouldn’t feed them both.

“But I’m hungry,” Steve pouted, flopping into one of the wooden kitchen chairs.

“Blah blah, boo hoo,” Bucky retorted, and flipped the remaining sausages. They were perfectly browned. “Make yourself useful and butter the toast.”

Steve huffed and went over to the stack of bread and got to work.

Bucky eased the meat out of the pan and switched the stove off. He squeezed the last of the sausages into a large dish and hefted it onto the table. He checked under the lid of the eggs’ bowl and nodded. Still perfectly soft. Nothing like some good old fashioned scrambled eggs.

“Buck,” Steve said, slapping hunks of butter onto the delicately browned toast. “You know I love you, right?”

Bucky breathed in deeply, wondering, not for the first time, where Steve got his earnest honesty. Hell, it took Bucky almost a year to repeat that sentiment back. “Yeah,” he answered.

Steve, the moron, was smiling.

He finished up the toast and plopped his haphazard pile onto the table. When Bucky added the bacon, and pulled out the plates and cutlery, they were set.

“You want juice?” Bucky asked, hopping over to the fridge.

A warm, large hand settled on his waist and he jumped, just a little.

“Mmm,” Steve breathed across his nape. “No, but I would definitely like something else, if you’re offering.”

Bucky scowled and slammed the fridge. “We’re about to chow down and you’re feeling randy?”

He turned, caged in by Steve’s arms.

“You sound surprised,” Steve chuckled, leaning in to kiss at Bucky’s nose.

“I’m hungry, is what,” Bucky huffed, but knew he was caught in Steve’s lust anyway. Damn the man for being so fucking gorgeous and smiling like that.

Steve kissed him then, cutting off all thought.

It was all well and good until Bucky shifted and winced.

“Ow, ow,” he gritted, leaning back, hand on the fridge edge. Steve pulled back, concerned.

“Here,” he murmured, before suddenly grabbing Bucky at the waist and hoisting him over and onto the countertop.

“Steve,” Bucky complained, about what, he wasn’t too sure.

But when Steve just sidled in between Bucky’s knees and began kissing at Bucky’s collarbone, all thoughts of breakfast flew out the door.

“You shouldn’t cook shirtless, Buck,” Steve rumbled, licking at Bucky’s nipple.

“Fuck,” Bucky huffed when Steve nibbled a little, then caressed the nub with his warm, wet tongue. “That feels amazing.”

Steve grinned and proceeded to do the same to the other nipple. Bucky’s cock was awake, demanding attention so suddenly, it was like a fainting spell.

“Your leg okay?” Steve asked gently, lapping at Bucky some more.

“Ugh, yes,” Bucky answered, hands in Steve’s hair. He gripped tighter when Steve moved down, elbows coming to rest on the counter either side of Bucky’s thighs. “Holy fuck, yes.”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, nuzzling at the bulge in Bucky’s pyjama pants. “Hi there, little guy.”

Bucky grunted when Steve used his teeth, applying a little pressure.

Steve looked up through those insane lashes of his and smiled wider. “Mind if I check in on the littlest Barnes?”

“You know what?” Bucky huffed, a little out of breath, "I don’t know why I–“ but his voice fell off when Steve just slid his hands under Bucky’s butt, lifted him easily, and pulled his pyjama pants down all in one smooth-as-hell movement. His pants flopped to the tiled floor, leaving Bucky ass-naked on their kitchen counter.

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed out before Steve licked a stripe up his furiously pink dick. Steve was amazing at sucking cock. Like, surprisingly so. He swore he’d never gone down on any guy before Bucky, so maybe his lips and mouth were just destined to suck Bucky dry.

And try, he did.

“St _eve_ , ugh,” Bucky gasped as Steve sucked him down, tongue massaging gently, wetly against his skin. Steve pulled up and sucked just the tip, making Bucky’s thighs shiver. Then he went back down, head bobbing slowly, carefully.

Bucky was so aware of how very naked he was, how exposed he felt, and it just kicked up something primal in him. It was amazing.

He opened his legs wide, hands digging into Steve’s scalp, massaging his best guy, garnering groans of pleasure from Steve.

Steve really loved having his hair played with.

God, but they were so perfect together. Steve’s mouth on Bucky was like a Godsend.

Bucky’s breath became shorter, sharper, as his balls tightened.

“ _Steve_ ,” he panted weakly in warning.

And Steve slowly pulled back, letting Bucky’s hard cock fall from his lips. He was glassy-eyed and pink-cheeked and looked like a debauched prince.

Bucky wanted to _strangle_ him. Why was he _stopping_?

“Oh my God, why?” Bucky panted.

Steve heaved himself up and kissed Bucky with all he had, tongue sharp and salty against his. The two of them held on, moaning and twisting.

Bucky got a hand into Steve’s sweats and fondled him none too gently, which had Steve gasping and leaning in for more.

“I want to ride you,” Steve got out, nipping at Bucky wetly.

Bucky almost blew his load right then. Oh, how fucking awesome would it be to have Steve bouncing on his dick? It was one of Bucky’s favourite positions. But he had to frown. Just the thought of Steve anywhere near to leaning on his upper thigh had Bucky wincing.

“We can’t,” Bucky responded, sucking onto Steve’s tongue.

The other man hummed.

“How ‘bout here, then?” Steve supplied. And one hand had drifted, fingers sliding up the bottom of Bucky’s thigh, opening his legs wider.

Fuck. That sounded amazing, and Bucky’s dick twitched.

He nodded fervently, immediately grabbing for the little basket of random stuff they kept on top of the fridge.

When he pulled a tube of lube free, Steve blinked. “Huh, didn’t know that was there.”

“Always prepared, Rogers,” Bucky said, yanking at Steve’s wrist. He squirted out a substantial amount of the slick onto the hand and Steve’s eyes widened.

Bucky then pushed Steve’s hand south, urging him onto the next step.

Bucky put a hand each on Steve’s shoulders, and shifted himself closer to the edge. He’d have to tilt his hips a little, sitting almost on his tailbone, but what was the point of his strength if not for awesome sex positions?

And Steve got to work, gently opening Bucky up, while Bucky gently kissed him and caressed his cheeks, hair and ears, just how Steve liked it.

Finally, after a bit more kissing and fondling, Bucky was ready. Steve was cautious as always, taking care to grip Bucky’s hips, his big hands wrapping firmly around them so Bucky wouldn’t have to overbalance.

Steve slid himself inside, slowly, gently, his eyes dilating as he went.

Bucky grunted when Steve seated himself fully, filling Bucky up.

“Just - stay there a sec,” Bucky asked, voice all gravel. He loved this feeling; Steve deep inside him, hot and thrumming and solid.

“Fuck,” Steve murmured, kissing at Bucky’s lips. He sucked at Bucky’s tongue, luring him in for a deep makeout session. They kissed, and held one another, completely lost to the pleasure. Until Steve hugged Bucky closer and Bucky grunted again.

Steve pulled back, smile sliding its way across his lips.

“That it?” he asked, shifting ever so slightly. Bucky grunted again, eyes fluttering. That was answer enough.

Steve started to pull out, then pushed back in slowly, building up a steady pace. He was so so good at it too. After enough practise, Steve was able to play Bucky like a damn violin.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed at one particularly hard thrust. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck.

Steve was thrusting sharply now, harder each time, and giving out little huffs with each slap of skin against skin.

“Bucky,” he breathed, in awe, “Bucky.”

“Stevie, c’mon,” Bucky drawled, his cock leaking over his balls and down to where they were connected. It had been a while after all. They’d been pent up long enough. “Fuck me.”

And Steve did, hitting Bucky’s sweet spot every time and getting a grunt of pleasure in return.

“I’m–“ Bucky panted, his dick throbbing. “I’m gonna–“

“Fuck,” Steve winced, slamming home. “ _Bucky_.” His voice was warbling a little, indicating he was all but ready to burst.

“Unh!” Bucky bit out, coming sharply, hotly between them. His ass clenched down and Steve almost lost his footing when he too came, spurting hot inside Bucky. 

Steve moaned into Bucky’s neck and shivered, hands on Bucky’s ass, as apparently he’d pulled Bucky right off the counter without him noticing.

There was a slight painful throb coming from Bucky’s leg, but he couldn’t care less.

“ _Baby_ ,” he whispered just behind Steve’s ear.

“Yeah…?” Steve responded, curling into the breath ghosting over his sensitive skin.

“I missed this,” Bucky said, scrubbing his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Don’t make me drop you,” Steve almost whimpered. Goosebumps rippled over his shoulders and Bucky smiled.

“You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare,” Bucky huffed. “Big strong man you are.”

Steve chuckled and gently deposited Bucky back on the counter before gently pulling out.

They both shifted, Bucky sliding onto the floor.

Steve looked between them. “We’re a mess.”

“You ruined breakfast,” Bucky retorted.

Steve gently pressed a hand to Bucky’s ample, muscular thigh. “Sorry.”

Bucky snorted, “Yeah, you sound sorry.”

Steve continued just caressing Bucky’s healing thigh, his other hand massaging Bucky’s ass. “You are so perfect, Buck.” he murmured, looking up. “Look at you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m an invalid, remember?”

Steve smiled wider and leaned in for a kiss. 

“Yeah, but you’re _my_ invalid. _”_

Bucky sighed loudly, “Okay, Shakespeare, wipe us down and let me get some food. I’m starving and you’re gonna eat over half what I made, so I gotta get in there.”

“What if I just want to hold you forever?” Steve murmured dopily.

“Oh, for the love of fuck, get out of my way, you bacon-stealing all-American monster.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Remember kids, spellchecking is a good idea or else you might end up with a sentence involving 'the bugle in Bucky's pants'. LOL.
> 
> Also, for the longest time, the file for this fic was just called 'Bucky gets shot'. So yeah. Thanks creativity for not just stopping there.


End file.
